


Changing Shocks is Easier with Friends

by sixappleseeds



Series: The Evolution of Pynch [3]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 02:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2411588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixappleseeds/pseuds/sixappleseeds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronan helps Adam with his piece of junk car. Adam's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing Shocks is Easier with Friends

July dragged on in all its too-hot and humid glory. Temperatures soared near the 100°F mark, and all the sensible people of Henrietta were indoors, probably basking in their air conditioning systems. Adam had the afternoon off, and though he wanted nothing more than to sprawl across his bed with the fan blowing on him, his car needed new shocks and now he had the time. At least it was shady out here. If there was a breeze to be had, he would catch it.

He was removing the second wheel on his car when Ronan walked by. The door up to Adam’s apartment was off the back lot; Adam watched as Ronan approached it, shoved his hands in his pockets, took them out again, and reached for the knob. Adam knew he should say something, but it was so unusual to see Ronan agitated that he didn’t want to interrupt. It was true, though, that Ronan had seemed stranger these past couple of weeks, like he’d reached some resolution with his sharper edges and was getting used to the difference. Adam could relate. 

Ronan still hadn’t entered the church. He ran his fingers over his shaved head and looked up at Adam’s window. Had something happened? Adam thought suddenly. To Gansey? To Blue? They were no closer to solving the mystery Blue’s mom left for them when she disappeared, but maybe -- ? 

Adam stood, letting his shoes scrape on the gravel. Ronan spun around. “Jesus, Parrish,” he said. “What the hell are you doing over there?” 

Adam gestured in a way that indicated the car, the wheel on the ground, and the shady spot he’d parked in. “Replacing my shocks,” he said. 

Ronan stalked over. There was something about the way he moved, Adam decided, that encompassed his whole body, from his shoulders to his hips to his feet. Most people would probably find it threatening, but then most people found Ronan threatening anyway. Adam didn’t. He hadn’t for a long time.

Ronan surveyed the scene: the jacked up car, the loose wheel, a can of WD-40, and a pair of vice grips and other assorted tools laid out on flattened pizza box. “Where’d you get the tools?” he asked.

Because if this had been two months ago, Adam would’ve been working in his father’s garage. Of course if this had been two months ago Adam wouldn’t have had his own car, piece of shit that it was. When he realized the shocks needed replacing he had briefly considered sneaking home -- to do what, exactly? Steal from his father? He also considered just taking his car into Boyd’s, but didn’t want to face his boss’s assessment of his vehicle, and therefore his assessment of Adam. 

“Borrowed them from one of the guys at work,” he said instead. 

Ronan nodded. Adam pulled a bandana from his pocket and used it to wipe his forehead. Somewhere in the trees above, a catbird called. 

“Where’s Chainsaw?” Adam asked, realizing Ronan had come without her.

“Left her at Monmouth in the AC,” Ronan replied. “Where I should’ve stayed. Jesus it’s hot out here.” He scowled at the ground like it had something to do with this. 

“So why are you out in it?” 

“I was bored,” Ronan muttered. “Gansey and Noah are over at Blue’s. I didn’t want to go.” 

Adam stared at the greasy edge of the pizza box at his feet. An ant was investigating some residual crumbs. For several alarming moments, repeating _I am unknowable_ to himself did nothing to ease the sudden ache in his gut. 

Ronan poked his arm. “You alright?” 

Adam looked up, blinking. Ronan’s eyes, he noticed, were very blue. “Yeah,” he said. “Just the heat.” 

“ _Shit_ ,” Ronan said. He made it sound like a reply and a general observation about the day. Adam agreed. 

“If you help me,” Adam said, “this’ll go faster.” He crouched by his car. “I can show you what to do.” 

“Just what I’ve always wanted,” Ronan said. “To get covered in crud while I’m baking in hell.” But he knelt down anyway, elbows on his knees, and picked up the can of WD-40. “Tell me where to spray it, doc.” 

Apart from Adam’s occasional instructions, they didn’t speak much. This was something Adam appreciated about Ronan, this ability to be comfortably quiet. Blue’s silences felt like she was searching for an answer to the puzzle that was Adam Parrish. When Gansey was silent, Adam braced himself because Gansey was only silent when he was trying not to say something awful. Ronan wasn’t afraid of saying awful things, and he didn’t, as far as Adam could tell, look at his friend like Adam was something to be fixed. Adam had read a book once where the author had described a particular kind of silence as “companionable.” Adam liked the way that word sounded when he thought about this space between him and Ronan. 

As they were finishing the fourth set of shocks, the wind picked up. “Praise the Lord,” Ronan muttered, and used his shirt to wipe his face. Adam caught a glimpse of very pale skin before Ronan dropped his shirt again. Ronan raised a brow. “Never saw the point of sunbathing,” he said drily. “When I can’t tan.” 

Adam just acquired freckles from sun exposure, and since he would rather die than admit how many freckles he already had, he never took his shirt off in public. Apparently Ronan didn’t either.

“I think they’re calling for thunderstorms this evening,” Adam said, because that glimpse of Ronan’s belly was still stuck in his head. 

Ronan scowled at the sky. “As long as it cools off,” he said. He didn’t sound happy about it though. “Hey,” he said then. “There’s a new Chinese buffet on the other side of town. It’s probably air conditioned. Let’s go.” 

Adam helped Ronan fit the last wheel back in place. “What about the others?” 

“Fine. Call Gansey and tell him and Blue to meet us there.” Adam did not especially want to do this, and Ronan knew it. “Or fuck ‘em,” he added equably. 

“I’ll text him,” Adam said. Maybe Gansey wouldn’t see it. Maybe he and Blue had already made plans. Then, because it couldn’t be left unsaid, “You know I can’t afford any Chinese buffet, Ronan.” 

Ronan stood, dusting off his knees. “So I have a coupon. One of those two-for-one deals. We’ll split it.”

Ronan did not have a coupon. Ronan Lynch was not the coupon type. Maybe he was planning on dreaming one up between now and whenever they arrived. Maybe he was planning to mug some elderly couple in the restaurant parking lot and steal their coupon. Adam stared up at Ronan, and then rose himself. A line of sweat trickled down between his shoulders. It was so damn hot.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Let me take a shower and I’ll meet you at Monmouth.” 

“Alright!” Ronan echoed. He punched the air, ridiculously exuberant. “Kung pao chicken, here we come!”

So Adam washed off, and Ronan idled outside Monmouth, and a short time later they headed across town. Ronan did indeed produce a coupon, and they had egg rolls and fried rice, kung pao chicken and beef with broccoli, wonton soup and fortune cookies. Ronan theorized about the private lives of the other patrons, and Adam gave up telling him to keep his voice down. Instead he laughed like he hadn’t laughed in weeks, and felt full for the first time in days. Ronan stole the bill from Adam’s fingers, but Adam managed to leave the tip. 

Neither of them remembered to text Gansey.


End file.
